Icy Darkness
by Fang323
Summary: In this new war, Arthur finds himself in a torturous situation, one that for once, he may not be able to escape from. He either waits for a certain hero, or it's time to take matters into his own hands. No longer continued here, as it is being re-written under the name "Bravery Under Adversity".
1. Chapter 1

Hey there, Fang here.

New fic I've been a little nervous to publish...hope you like.

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><p>"Iggy, wait up!"<p>

Arthur looked over his shoulder to see the American rushing towards him at full throttle. He braced himself for a glomp, but Alfred only slowed down next to him to walk beside his brother.

"Well, hello to you too, chap." Arthur replied. "Rousing meeting, wouldn't you say?"

Alfred looked sheepish as they walked.

"S-Sorry…"

Arthur shook his head, and then winced as the motion jarred his headache where he bashed it into the wall. He had just come out of the restroom where he had been hastily bandaging the shallow cut next to his right eye. With the war in full thrust, holding Alfred and Ivan back was becoming more and more difficult with every meeting. Alfred didn't know where he was at those moments, and would lash out at anything and anything that stood in his way. Arthur was honestly surprised that he had escaped this one with nothing but a small laceration, a large bruise on the side of his chin and a mound on his head.

Obviously, Alfred was thinking similarly along that line, and was staring intently at the darkening bruise forming.

"That looks a bit serious, Artie…"

"It's fine. Better than I've had before."

Alfred immediately stopped and faced Iggy, reaching out for his chin to look at the mark. Arthur slapped his hand away.

"Git, I said I'm fine!"

"I want to see for myself!"

"There's no need for-"

America's grip on his shoulder suddenly stiffened, and he stared at one of the side corridors. Arthur followed his gaze to see the last person he would ever want to meet alone.

Russia stood leaning against the wall, his arms folded about his chest. That disgusting sneer/smile adorned his face as always, but his eyes weren't directed towards Alfred. He was staring at Arthur.

Those deep violet eyes…they seemed to bore through Arthur's skull and into the very core of his being. Arthur forced himself not to move a muscle, but to stare back with all he could, emerald eyes blazing in challenge. He was not to be intimidated.

Alfred noticed with a bit of worry who Russia was turning his attentions on. Never leaving his eyes from Ivan, he wrapped his hand around Arthur's upper arm. Russia's focus shifted a centimeter upward, and his grin widened as he gazed at his archenemy, as if in acceptance of the challenge. Alfred tightened his grip, ignoring the glazing red fire in his gut threatening to explode.

"Arthur…C'mon."

When Arthur did not seem to listen, as he was still glaring at the Russian, Alfred tugged on his arm and led his brother out of Ivan's sight.

Only when they reached outside did Alfred finally let go of his pent-up breath and of Arthur's arm. Both countries slumped onto the bench next to the door. Alfred leaned his head in his hands, while Arthur massaged his tingling arm. Alfred peeked though his fingers, and then let out a sigh and sat back, settling his hands behind his head.

"I don't think I've seen him that calm before in a while…" Arthur commented, rubbing the back of his head. Alfred was clenching his fists.

"Did you see the way he was looking at y- us?" Alfred asked, uncharacteristically quiet. Arthur glanced up.

"With the same utter hatred he gives you and everyone else? I saw it…so?"

"No, no, it wasn't just that…" Alfred was at a loss for words. How could he explain the…disturbing hunger that was in his eyes? As if he wanted…no…but for what purpose? It scared Alfred just thinking about it.

"Nothing. I imagined it."

Arthur looked at him quizzically, but grimaced when his hand hit the swelling lump on his head. Alfred swallowed, guilt rising up in him again.

"I never took a look at what I did- how you were injured."

Arthur shook his head, which in hindsight, was not the best of idea with a head injury, and Alfred took Iggy's moment of disorientation to grab his shoulder and turn him without much force to face him. He grasped the Brit's chin and turned Arthur's face up to see the large discolored bruise on his jaw. It was darker than a usual bruise, almost a black-purple in color. Alfred could distinctly see the imprint where his hand had made contact with Arthur's face. He swallowed.

Arthur finally came out of his haze and batted Alfred's hand away from his face again. But the look on Alfred's face gave him cause to pause, then sigh in resignation. Gratefully, Alfred moved Iggy's head so that the cut was facing him. He carefully tore the heedlessly placed bandage from Iggy's face, noting the wince of pain from the Brit. The gash was as long as his pinky finger, and had begun to drip blood again into Artie's eye. Alfred hastily took out the small first aid kit from his jacket. He then began to clean the incision with care, making sure not to hut his brother anymore than he had to.

Eventually though, the wound was properly taken care of. Alfred replaced his supplies and then stood up.

"Don't move from here, kay?" he looked at Arthur, trying to act stern and failing miserably.

Arthur simply sat back, gingerly touching his bruise. "I'm not going anywhere, git."

Alfred took the moment to run inside for some ice packs for Arthur's head and bruise. Arthur sighed, finally away from Alfred's ministrations, and rubbed his head tenderly again.

Alfred was being overprotective again, he thought, remembering Alfred's drawing him closer with the incident with Russia. And the fact that his brother was feeling guilty about hurting him during the meeting wasn't doing wonders either. Alfred's constant paranoia was only growing, and Arthur, unfortunately, was becoming his recipient.

His head was throbbing again. Arthur wondered randomly where Alfred was with those ice packs. He had been gone long enough…

Suddenly, a hand flashed behind him grabbed him over his mouth. Arthur stiffened and tired to yell out, but the hand clamped tighter. Another snaked to the back of his neck in a death-like grip. Arthur struggled to pull away violently, but the hands held him fast.

"Amerika will not be pleased…" he had a whisper in his ear. A sharp pain erupted in the back of his neck, and all he remembered was that that voice was tinged with Russian.

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><p>AUTHOR'S COMMENTS:<p>

I've wanted to do something like this for a while as well. Actually, I wrote about 8 pages worth at school, and just never really got the courage to publish until now!

This is just some unspecified war in the near future. There is barely any historical parts in this, except for references to the Cold War.

It's going to be quite long, as I understand. More likely longer than "Young Again" will ever be.

Thank you, and please review! I'm very anxious about this one...

-Fang


	2. Chapter 2

Hey there, Fang here.

I feel a bit more confident with this story now...though I feel a bit sadistic writing it ...Ah, Oh well. Enjoy!

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><p>Alfred opened the doors of the building and half-jogged to where he had left his bro sitting on the bench. Two cold ice packs were in his hand, filled with soothing (hopefully) apology. Alfred always felt terrible about hurting every country in the world meeting, but for him to injure Arthur…again….he couldn't think of anything more unforgivable. But Arthur continually forgave him every time. Alfred didn't understand it at all, but he was eternally grateful to his tsundere brother.<p>

"Oi, Artie! I got them!" he yelled ahead of himself, and turned the corner to find an empty bench. Arthur was gone.

"Iggy?" he looked around confused, staring out over the parking lot. Did he leave? No…his car was still in the lot. Instinctively without even looking…he knew Russia's vehicle would be gone.

Trying desperately to keep his suspicions cool, Alfred ran directly where Russia had parked his car. He got down on his knees, hoping frantically that he wouldn't find anything.

His hopes were dashed when he picked up a silver button that had fallen off a British gentleman's jacket.

Alfred clutched the button in his fist, feeling the cool, solid metal, and his face drew into pure fury. The b*stard had his brother. Arthur was missing. D*mn it, whatever the Russia did to Arthur, he would pay him back 100 times.

Trying to hold his every-growing panic and rage, he stood up, fumbling for his cell phone and dialing France's number. He listened to three rings before that obnoxious voice came up over the phone.

"L'Amerique? To what pleasure do I owe zis call? Iz it possible zhat you have taken up my offer for that you call 'a romp in zeh woods? Because if it is….i was just thinking about you…you moving against me…sweat running down-"

"Shut up." Alfred's vehement voice cut him off.

"…L'Amerique, you know I was only half-joking-"

"I said to shut the f*ck up, France. I'm not calling your a$s to listen to you shoot your mouth. Arthur's gone."

Alfred was hurrying to his own car, his keys already out.

"…what?" France's disbelieving tone came over the line.

"You heard me, wine-lover. He's missing. His car is still here."

"Well, he couldn't have wandered far…"

"Russia's car is gone. And I found one of Arthur's uniform buttons next to the spot.

France was silent.

"But…there could be many explanations for this-"

" F*ck no there isn't! That communist B*stard has Artie, Dammit! !"

"L'Amerique, please calm yourself."

Alfred gritted his teeth as he swung himself into the car.

"I'm going there to kill that b*stard. That f*cking son of a bit-"

"AMERICA!"

France's voice yelled at him out of his stupor. He shook his head, and realized he had gripped the car door so hard, the handle was nothing but crushed metal. He cursed and kicked the door open.

"…yeah."

"Now…to find our precious L'Angleterre, who could be anywhere…what do you have in mind?"

"…Just…call anyone. Everyone. Anyone who can help. I'll call Mattie though. But then…meet…at Arthur's place. Is that alright?"

"Understood, L'Amerique. And…L'Amerique?"

Alfred leaned back in his seat and sighed.

"Don't do anything until you know more…I'm sure he's fine."

"Like I could believe that."

With that, Alfred hit end.

The car roared to life, and Alfred tore out of the parking lot to his home close to the Canadian border, which he and his twin brother shared. He wasn't far from it; Mattie should have been home by now.

Twenty minutes later, Alfred skidded into the driveway and ran into the house. Mattie was already inside, pouring himself a mug of maple syrup.

"Alfred! I was wondering when you would get here." He said quietly. He held up his mug. "Want some?"

Alfred looked at him and said simply, "Come on. We're going to Iggy's place for a meeting."

Matthew took a sip, confused.

"But didn't we just come from-"

"We did, but a new thing popped up."

He smashed the drywall next to him.

"Arthur's been abducted by Russia."

Matthew coughed into his syrup. He stared at his brother, eyes wide.

"What? Al, you're joking…."

"I don't joke about this, Mattie!"

Matthew grew quiet, and Alfred slumped into the opposite chair. Silence reigned the room: Matthew staring, his syrup forgotten, Alfred rubbing the bridge of his nose. Mattie didn't know what to say, and Al didn't want to say anything more. One more thing, and he really would rush head-first into Russia.

Though he had his doubts, Matthew finally stood up, draining the last of syrup. Al just looked at him, his expression unreadable.

"Well then, eh?" Mattie smiled slightly. "Shouldn't we be off then?"

Alfred shook his head, and grinned. He got up, and pulled his twin into a crushing force of a hug.

"Yeah…yeah, we better hit the road."

He released Matthew, and dug into his pocket for his jet starter as he practically ran to the front door.

"Al?" came Mattie's soft voice from behind him. Alfred turned to look at him. Matthew was holding onto his coat tightly, hair falling into his eyes.

"Arthur's going to be alright?"

Alfred looked down, and opened the door. He didn't say anything, because he didn't have an answer.

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><p>His head throbbed.<p>

His head throbbed, and he was cold.

His head throbbed, he was cold, and he was lying on something blasted hard.

And all of this was before he had even opened his eyes.

Arthur gritted his teeth as he rolled over on what he perceived to be a hard cot. Where the bloody h*ll was he? Was his first semblance of thought as he opened his eyes and looked up.

A dark, stone ceiling met his still rather blurry sight. His eyes were drawn to the only light in the place, a flickering bare bulb hanging from the center of the ceiling, throwing a dim cast upon the cold, stone room he was lying in. A dungeon from his medieval ages…odd.

He shifted his head to the left, and was met with a staring pair of violet eyes.

Arthur almost cried out in surprise, but he did jump and shrink away from the Russian leering at him. Ivan smiled.

"Da, you are awake then?"

Arthur leapt upon the man in a fit of rage, knocking both of them to the hard floor.

"Where the h*ll am I, you b*stard!" Arthur yelled as he scuffled with Ivan. Ivan's smug smile changed to one of unadulterated cruelty. In the fight, he threw one solid punch at the Brit's gut, sending him flying into the wall and knocking his breath out. Arthur's eyes went wide with the impact, his mouth open in shock. The next thing he knew, he was up against the wall with his feet off the ground. Russia's hand was around his neck. Arthur tried to take a breath, but the hand tightened and choked off his windpipe. Arthur flailed, quickly losing his working faculties, but Russia didn't move and only stared at his struggling face, a smoldering hatred in his eyes. Arthur clutched at the hand choking his life away but his vision was dimming... he couldn't think…

He felt himself falling and then moved about into a sitting position. The restricting blasted hand was gone, and he was choking and sputtering on his own air, drawing in as much as he could.

Arthur heard the clanking of chains and felt his arms each violently pulled and felt metal come in contact with his skin, but he couldn't do anything while still gasping for oxygen. His vision began to clear as his brain found itself again and he was staring into Ivan's grinning face once again.

"Much more comfortable, no? England?" his grin betrayed al the perverse pleasure he took in this rough treatment of Arthur. Arthur pulled valiantly against the manacles chaining his arms above his head, but the chains of metal were not to be vanquished. Ivan almost laughed at Arthur's futile efforts, but merely said, "You shouldn't resist, da?"

Arthur felt the cold hard blow to his face this time, snapping his head around. He clenched his teeth together against the pain reverberating though his cheek.

" F*ck you…" he growled at his captor, and earned a rock punch to his gut again. He doubled over, his legs coming up to protect his abdomen. Ivan had stood up, and was pacing the room as the Englishman struggled to get his breath back.

"Da, England…you will be an entertaining man to break…but it will not be easy, no?" he leaned into England's face. "I enjoy a challenge…"

Involuntarily, Arthur felt a cold chill spill like liquid fire fall down his spine.

"But of course…you do not think me a mindless savage, da? I have my reasons for bringing you here…" Ivan stopped and faced Arthur, silent as a stone, staring at his prey. Arthur, despite the pain in his stomach and head, never let his gaze waver.

"I have always wondered what it would take for the great Amerika to join me…after all, he destroyed my beautiful Soviet Union, leaving me without any friends, da? I've…tried to persuade him multiple times…but nothing has come of it."

"Good for him, you blood son of a b*tch !" Arthur spat.

Ivan lost his smile, and marched to Arthur, pulling his head up by his hair. Arthur bit back a curse as his head was jerked back.

"It is rude to interrupt friends, da?" Russia's voice was cold and unforgiving. He let go of Arthur and continued his pacing.

"So…if I cannot get Amerika to be my comrade with…friendliness…how can I win? I asked myself…there had to be another way …and I found it."

He grinned knowingly.

"there are only two countries in the world who would elicit any sort of emotional response from Amerika if they left. The twin…Canada, you say, for one…da? But he is unattainable, that…invisibility trait he has is rather annoying. So of course…there is only one option.

Arthur felt that ice fire sliding down his body again.

"Amerika…is very protective of you, da. I'm very surprised he left you alone for so long today…though I do not complain."

Arthur scowled. "What the bloody h*ll are you talking about?"

Ivan only seemed bemused by the Brit's anger.

"Why, it is simple, da? I use you to make Mr. Amerika join me. Simple…as…that."

"He would never!" Arthur roared in outrage.

"Oh? Even if it is to make sure no harm comes to you?"

"That's right, you b*stard ." Arthur felt his face going red. "He may be young and insane, but he's not that idiotic! You're just going to pisss him off! And, God, I hope you do, because I can't wait to see your blasted body riddled with bullet holes!"

Russia's expression expressed perverse glee. "that's what I thought you would say, Mr. Kirkland, da?" He reached into his pocket slowly, watching Arthur's eyes widen and then close in relief as he simply brought out a phone.

"Let us call Mr. Jones for his opinion, da?"

His eyes snapped open again.

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><p>AUTHOR'S COMMENTS:<p>

...I'm so sorry, Iggy...

Anyway!

Hey, Tucagwathiel! Haha, it's not just the new material, it's just this one in general because it's so different from what I've done before. but I'm glad you like!

cookies111, yep! Another story. I will keep going, since I actually know how it's going to end and all! I never leave a story unfinished!

And xXAmericaXTheXHeroXx, I am glad my fangirl approves. I shall try my best to keep that approval.

Hey, FaithAltoire! Yes, this is my first time writing for Russia, so that's another reason why I was a little nervous about this story. Life is apparently complete! ^_^

And WriterCat, thanks! I'll try not to be, if you think it's that good. I update as soon as possible!

ALL RIGHT!

Man...I am such a sadistic b*stard...I'll have to make Iggy scones after the crap I'm going to put him through...

But Don't worry! He's not just going to sit there and be tortured the whole time. I have my plans for him. (That sounds rather evil...I apologize again...)

Other countries will pop in next chapter, so I'll have fun writing them for the first time as well...I think I'm Ok with France and Russia, and I'm totally fine with Iggy and Alfred and Mattie. This is going to be a fun challenge!

Anyway, please review...they make me feel better as I research Russian Torture techniques...

-Fang


	3. Chapter 3

Hey there, Fang here. HOpe you enjoy this next installment!

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><p>Alfred and Matthew walked into Arthur's well-kept front yard, but Alfred was too focused on his missing brother to notice the light drizzle that had accompanied them had stopped. The area outside London was sunny for once.<p>

"Alfred…"

The American had stopped, staring up at the house. Matthew took a few steps back to grab his brother's arm.

"Al? Is everything alright?" Matthew asked, concerned.

"What is he going to do to him, Mattie?" Alfred was quiet. "You…you know what he's done to me… But Artie…"

"Al. Let's…not dwell on that yet…let's just go inside…" Mattie pulled gently on his brother's arm.

Al shook his head, and removed Mattie's hand from his arm before walking up to the porch and letting himself in.

France met him at the door, his face for the first time solemn as a grave.

"L'Amerique? Good…I have done as you asked…"

Alfred walked into the parlor room to find his new companions in this devastating situation.

There was Japan, solemn and quiet, hands in his lap and looking up at Alfred with barely a hint of emotion in his eyes. Germany as well was already sitting down, but in his blue orbs, lighter even than Alfred's was skepticism. Italy was next to the burly blonde, twiddling his fingers nervously. Mattie and Francis both hurried in and took two of the three empty seats. Alfred did not sit, but continued to look at the three newcomers.

"You guys…" Alfred began, but Ludwig cut him off.

"Nein, Amerika. We understand what you think happened to Englan-"

"I think? I know!"

"But you have no proof! The wine- #!*% told us you found a button of England's convieniently placed next to Russia's car-"

"I did! Retard! It's right here!" Alfred thrust the object in front of Germany. "Isn't this proof enough?"

"I am afraid Germany-san is correct, America-san. We do not know if this could be simply coincidence."

Alfred gripped the back of his seat, trying to suppress his increasing rage.

"If that's what you believe, then tell me where Arthur is!"

Germany shrugged. "I do not know, but I'm just saying we should not jump to conclusions! Use your head, Amerika!"

Alfred slammed his hand on Arthur's tea table, cracking it.

"You #!*% , I am!"

Ludwig stood up ready for a fight.

"Germany, Germany, Germany! No, Stop! Mr. Amerika!" Italy was wailing, grabbing and wrapping himself around Germany's arm. Canada was silently holding onto Alfred's shoulders in a futile attempt to hold him back. Francis rushed to grab Alfred's arm and Japan quietly sat.

The phone rang.

The countries froze, listening to the ringtone of 'God Bless America'. Slowly, never taking his eyes off Germany, he reached into his jacket and pulled out his phone, tapping 'Talk'.

"America here."

"Ah…Mr. Jones, da?"

Alfred almost dropped his phone. The other countries quickly moved back to their seats, either in gross anticipation or undisguised worry. Alfred slowly hit 'speaker phone' and set it on the cracked table.

"Yeah."

"Ah…how are you?"

Alfred could have hit the phone."

"I don't have time for this #!*% !" he yelled. Russia tsked

"Now, now, Mr. America…patience is a virtue, yes?"

"Where's my brother, you #!*% ?" Alfred's voice grew steely. Germany and Japan shared a look.

"Ah, yes…Mr. Kirkland, da? Oh, he's…indisposed at the time…"

Alfred's heart stopped, and he bodily froze. Italy gasped and Germany slapped a hand over his mouth to keep him from crying out. Matthew and France both looked like they had been hit in the chest, and Japan, for once, showed emotion with a furrowing of his eyebrows.

"You son of a #!*% !" Alfred really did break the table this time. Non of the countries reprimanded him, or looked surprised.

"Tsk…so excitable, Amerika. England is not…dying…per se.."

"Alfred! Alfred, I'm fine!"

"Arthur!" Alfred jumped up.

"Al, don't listen to him! I'm fine, he's planning to-"

A crack erupted from the other line of metal hitting flesh. Another followed, and another, each one accentuated by a cry of agony from the Brit.

"Arthur! ARTHUR!" Alfred yelled over and over to the useless phone. The cracks continued; Arthur's voice quieted. Alfred's eyes were beginning to stream with tears.

"Stop it…Stop hurting my brother!"

A few blows later, dead silence followed. The countried were barely breathing from shock, and a little bit in anticipation.

"A-Arthur…" Alfred croaked out. Silence met him. France sat back, rubbing his face, while Italy clung closer to Germany. Japan had an actual look of disgust upon his face, and matthew walked over to Alfred and touched his shoulder. Alfred didn't move a muscle, but stared at the phone as if it was a nuclear bomb.

A crackle or two of the other line being picked up, and Russia's smooth voice appeared.

"Now Kirkland should not have done that…how naughty…"

Alfred bolted out of his stupor. "What did you do? Arthur!"

"Unconscious men do not answer. You know that, Mr. Jones…"

If Alfred could have strangled Russia through the phone, Russia's neck would be in two.

"But you see, da? Prisoners who have been bad must be punished. Kirkland was out of line, yes? Not that I was planning on using that plan, anyway…your brother has made that clear to me…but there is no reason to keep it to myself now, da? You see…I originally planned to use him to convince the good Mr. Amerika to be my comrade."

Alfred remained silent, wrath and a hint of fear for Arthur welling up inside his chest. Ivan really was a #!*% .

"But now I know that is an impossibility…So I must walk a different path…If you will not become one…I believe that Arthur can be…persuaded to join my noble cause, da?"

"Never! Arthur is too stubborn for that! You #!*% son of a #!*% , leave him alone!"

"Ah, that odd stubborn streak of his…" Russia's fake, coercing voice disinigrated.

"It is of no consequence. I break him."

Alfred knew he meant every word. Hs own voice was venomous, dangerous.

"What did Arthur eve do to you…" He clutched the phone tighter.

"Oh? Isn't it obvious? He allies himself with you.. That's all the reason I need."

A click, and Russia was gone.

A pin could have dropped, and it would have been a gunshot in that room.

Italy clung to Ludwig, whimpering quietly. Japan was straight-backed again, his mouth open in a rare exclamation of horror. France was leaned over in his chair, just staring at the broken table. His hands were clasped together, white-knuckled. Matthew sat quietly, eyes closed and arms crossed around Kumajiro. They all turned and stared at Alfred.

His hand was clenched around the arm of the chair, crunching the wood inward with the force of his powerful grip. The expression in his eyes was hidden by his curtain of hair, but his gritted teath and tear-stained face told all the countries what they needed to know.

With a cry of rage, he crushed the wood of the broken table with his foot.

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><p>AUTHOR'S COMMENTS:<p>

Alright!

Hey, Tucagwathiel! I think I've sent you quite a few PMs...so thanks!

And xIkuna, I'm glad you're enjoying it. I feel bad whenever I write it, but I will end up finishing!

Hey, WriterCat! Yeah, I haven't read many Russia-Capture-Iggy fics before...so I'm kind of writing this by the seat of my pants. Haha, but this is your favorite story? That's pretty awesome...this is the most angst-filled one I have EVER written. Thank you so much!

And LynnJones42, I love cliffhangers...they make my day. And Torture readers. I'm happy you are so enthusiastic about this fic, it's fun (in a sadistic sense) to write!

Hey, FaithAltoire! We're all a little sick in the head...oh, believe me, when I'm done with Iggy...*shivers* it's not gonna be pretty... Hey! Thanks about the Russia Comment, I wasn't sure if I was writing him correctly or not...so i just made him a sadistic #!*% .

iNatix! I know what you mean. When I go on FF, I automatically look for this type of fic...I'm not a bad person! *hides under rock* But Hey, thanks so much for reading!

xXAmericaXTheXHeroXx: if the fangirl approves, I shall write on! Thanks

ThE-faInTinG-faNGirl, hey! Yeah, he'll need Earl Grey...a lot of it...because he sure isn't coming out of this unscathed...Thanks!

YEAH!

Oh...Iggy...Off-screen torture...don't worry, next chapter, the actual stuff will come in...

Russia, you communist bastard...

Ok, I gotta go, school's starting! Cya alll later, and Please Review...So Iggy feels loved in these troubled times...

-Fang


	4. Chapter 4

Hey there, Fang here. My friend was pressuring me to write, so Here it is!

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><p>When Arthur came into consciousness again, he felt a shrieking pain reverberating through his body. His limbs ached like the Blitz, his abdomen hurt in insurmountable pain.<p>

His head lolled, and he dimly realized his hands were still held by the manacles above his head.

All of a sudden, his mind clicked.

Pain. Iron. Russia. Anguish. Screams. Alfred's voice.

He gasped aloud as his heightened sense of mind registered the past, and he finally opened his eyes. The same dark room, the flickering bare bulb. The iron-bolted door, the hard, dirty cot. All was where it was when Russia was standing over him, a phone in his hand and the iron weapon in his other, bringing it down mercilessly on his shaking body.

Arthur shut his eyes, trying to drown out the horrid memory. He had find something to keep his mind occupied, and fast, or else he might lose consciousness again. Slowly and tentatively, he checked his body for permanent injuries. Arthur straightened out his legs grimacing; they hurt and were probably bruised beyond measure, but he could move them. He brought his head up to look at his arms, and confirmed his suspicions. Mottled dark bruises covered his discolored, abused arms. It was agonizing to move one of them, but it wasn't impossible. He concluded it was just a bad sprain, which thankfully was better than a broken bone. It hurt to move his face; he didn't even want to consider what he looked like. He wasn't coughing up blook, insinuating he didn't have any internal injuries.

Arthur smirked mirthlessly. Ivan had gone easy on him. #!*% , knowing him, this was just a warm up. But for tight now, He was relatively unscathed.

He pulled the cuffs with his good arm. They were set firmly into the wall and there was no chance of tearing them out. Arthur tried to pull his hand out of the chain but his hand stuck halfway up his hand. They jangled about his rather bony wrists, obviously made for a larger captive. Alfred's face flashed in front of Arthur's vision, and he shook his head to clear it.

_Quite the bloody situation to be in, chap_. He thought to himself. _The others are probably worried as #!*% . But…_ he pulled futilely at the chains once more, _#!*% ._

Arthur sat there, watching the door, his anxiety Not fear…no…never fear… growing with every second that ticked in his mind. Ivan had to know he was conscious. He wouldn't expect anything less from the #!*% .

But where was he?

The cold of the cell was becoming noticeable, and Arthur, deprived of his jacket and shirt which were on the cot, was beginning to shiver. The seconds passed. The minutes passed. Russia did not show. Arthur's heart was pounding in his chest; the room was deathly silent, except for the clock in his mind.

Arthur almost swore he could see his own breath now. There was no feeling in his arms, the blood flow had slowed a while ago. He almost began wishing that Russia would show up just so that this tortuous wait would end.

And still, the clock ticked.

Arthur thought he heard a sound up in the ceiling. He made his stiff neck look p, and sure enough, the bulb was swinging back and forth slightly from its flimsy electrical wire. Someone was there. Arthur's hear beat faster.

The sound of unlocking bolts echoed throughout the room. The door opened.

"Ah, Kirkland…I supposed you enjoyed your stay here?"

Arthur said nothing, but clenched his teeth and threw a defiant, hate-filled look towards the Russian. Ivan came into the room empty handed, no device of any kind or weapon to be seen. Even so, Arthur felt his gut go cold as Russia advanced toward his limp form.

"Have you…reconsidered my proposal?" Russia bent down in front of his captive. Arthur worked up enough saliva, and spat in his face.

"That's what I think of your 'proposal, you #!*% #!*% !"

Russia's sadistic smile only grew more devious as he wiped the saliva off his face. His eyes darkened, and he reached up to unlock the manacles. Arthur tensed, waiting for a chance to spring.

It never came. Arthur jumped at Russia venomously, but Ivan grabbed his bad arm and twisted it around his back, leaving Arthur writing in pain and under Russia's complete control. Ivan stood him up, one hand also grasping the back of his neck, and then pushed him forward and out of the cell.

Arthur kept his eyes tightly shut as Ivan wrenched his arm again, his already pale skin going white with suppressed agony. He would not give the #!*% Russian the pleasure of hearing him scream. And so he stumbled forward on injured legs, unseeing, and at Russia's mercy.

All of a sudden a blow hit his head and he cried out in surprise and hurt. He sagged in Russia's brutal hands, which picked him up and slung him over his shoulder roughly. Arthur was too stunned to move.

He was thrown violently upon a rough wooden table, and his legs and arms were pulled straight. He felt the unfortunate cold of the iron on his wrists and ankles and struggled valiantly against them to no avail. Once his head had stopped pounding, he opened his eyes. A blindingly bright light shone down directly on his face, leaving him blind to everything else. Russia appeared, his face shadowed. Arthur growled and pulled harder at the binding. Russia smirked.

"Last chance, da…I do not want to do this to a potential ally…"

"…Like #!*% , you #!*% #!*% …Heh, you enjoy this. You wouldn't stop even if I agreed."

Russia nodded slowly.

"Of course, Arthur. You've always been smart, da? I haven't had this much fun in such a long time…"

He left Arthur's field of vision, leaving him alone in that inhuman light. Arthur's heart rose to his throat; there was only one fate that awaited him now.

All he could hear was the splashing of water and Russia's footsteps. No, he would not give Ivan the satisfaction of seeing his impending panic. He would stay strong. He would not scream or make a noise. Arthur would win this.

A hand grabbed his jaw and forced it open, shoving a wet cloth into his mouth. Arthur yelled in surprise, but his cry was muffled effectively. Russia's face loomed over him once again.

"Ah…it's much nicer when you do not talk…"

Another splast of water sounded.

"This method is crude…but quite effective, I might say…"

Arthur growled through the gag, hatred obvious in his eyes. Russia hefted a bucket of water up over Arthur.

"But enough talk."

The water fell.

Arthur cried out at the contact; it was colder than ice. His body stiffened, pulling hard against the cuffs holding him to the table. Another cascade of icy #!*% spewed over him. Most of it made it into his mouth.

Arthur spasmed wildly, the water filling up the cloth, filling up his mouth and he couldn't breathe. He couldn't breathe. He was drowning. Oh, God, He was drowning. A choked cry erupted from his throat and never reached his lips. The wet cloth held him back. He convulsed as another shock of Ice hit his battered body again.

His eyes refused to close, so cold it was. His lungs burned for air. Russia took a single cup and began pouring the icy death directly into Arthur's mouth, a glint of enjoyment in his cold eyes. Arthur coughed and spluttered, but all he could think of was panic and drowning. NO…No, this couldn't be happening…!

He was so cold…each tumult of #!*% pounded his body like ice-fire. He could barely feel the cuffs cutting into his flesh for the fear of water in his lungs. Oh, God. Stop. Please, Stop. Don't do this to me. Leave me alone, I haven't done anything, let me breathe, let me breathe let me breathe!

It never came. The torrents of water fell down unceasingly. The feeling of drowning yet never dying.

Arthur screamed.

No sound came out of his lungs.

Time lost meaning for Arthur. The water would never stop. He would die here. And he dint' know if he even cared anymore.

He didn't even notice when the torture finally terminated. The cuffs were removed from his bleeding appendages; the gag was gone from his sore, lack mouth. In a flash, he turned on his side and hacked helplessly, trying desperately to clear the non-existent water in his lungs. He could feel Russia's laughing gaze on his trembling, freezing body, but right now, he couldn't care less.

Ivan grabbed his hair, yanking him back and trapping his arms behind his back. Arthur bit back a hoarse gasp as Russia jerked him off the table and back the few meters to the cell room. He was thrown into the rock wall, and Arthur crumpled to the floor holding his wrist.

"Oh, no, Mr. Kirkland…no rest for you."

Russia grabbed his hurt arm and yanked him to his shaking feet, eliciting a hiss of pain from the soaking wet Brit. Two iron chains held from the ceiling, and from these he hung Arthur's hands, leaving him in a standing position, his arms above his head. Arthur couldn't go limp without straining his already battered arms, nor could his legs support him for long. He was trapped in an uncomfortable position with no way to relieve the continuous pain.

"You…f- #!*% .." his voice came out in a raspy, shivering whisper. Russia said nothing, his face entirely devoid of emotion.

He turned on his heel and walked out, slamming the thick door shut behind him. Arthur was left in the icy darkness.

In the blackness of the stone-cold room, a tiny, whispering voice could be heard.

"M-My name is Arthur Kirkland…" He told himself, as if a part of him were starting to disappear. "My Name is A-Arthur Kirkland. I h-have a brother…A-Alfred…who h-had better c-come and get me the h- #!*% out of here…"

He swallowed hard in his raw throat. The cold of the room had penetrated his skin, right down to his bones. His wrists and ankles stung from the still aggravated wounds. He had never been so cold in his life.

"I'm s-strong. I-I can s-survive this." He reassured himself, trying to calm his aching body and mind down from the ordeal.

"I'm…A-Arthur…"

* * *

><p>...I look at my writing, and all I can see is my extensive use of commas.<p>

AnywaY!

Hey, tynder20! Thank you so much about your comment about my characterization. It's probably one of the biggest things I worry about, making the characters STAY in character, so to hear that it is actually working is amazing. Russia is so much fun and yet so disturbing to write...so thanks again!

FullMetalFreak19, Artie is going to need a LOT of tea after this...i'm glad you like the *saddening* story!

Hey, cookies111. Poor Alfred...I think he's getting tortured just as much as Iggy is...he really does care for his brother, no matter how much he tries to hide it...Poor everyone indeed!

And to WriterCat...I totally agree. Angst is amazing. Torturing Iggy = Mad America= a pounding for Russia. Don't worry...it may be coming...!

xXAmericaXTheXHeroXx, haha! America will be getting antsy about not doing anything soon...don't worry, we'll see some action from him!

And to Mothy.D, Let's just say...um...It's not the Cold War...Let's put it around a future war. I don't know, I just wanted to do a torture-Iggy fic...Thank you for enjoying!

ALRIGHT!

...Crap...um, I have to go really soon, but this chapter was actually kind of painful to write...Oh, and if the swear words i put in this fic don't show up, please tell me. It's just my computer acting stupid, and I will fix it!

Thank you, and Please review...for our Iggy's sake...

-Fang


	5. Chapter 5

Hey there, Fang here.

I'm about to go on vacation to the hot springs for a few days before Thanksgiving, so I'm posting another chapter! I feel so accomplished...

* * *

><p>"Al?" The Canadian walked into Arthur's study.<p>

The American did not lift his head from his arms, nor gave any indication that he had heard his twin.

"…we checked the next intercepted messages from Russia's territory…nothing about Arthur." Mattie finished quietly. There was no response from his brother. Matthew shuffled his feet unsure of what to say next. He walked over and laid a hand on his brother's shoulder. Alfred started, and lifted his head.

"Oh…Mattie…What is it? Anything?"

Matthew's heart dropped. Alfred hadn't heard a word.

"…No…we haven't…not from this batch of messages, anyway…" he added hurriedly as Alfred's slightly hopeful face fell hard. His fist was clenched on the desk in front of him, littered with Arthur's paperwork.

"Mattie!" he exclaimed, whipping around to face him. Anger and panic flashed in his eyes.

"I'm not just going to sit here and wait for Germany and Japan to find a message about Arthur that will never be found because it doesn't exist!"

"Al, we don't know that! It's the only logical course of Action right now that we have, and you know it!"

Alfred's hair hung in his eyes, and he turned away to glare out the window opening up on the beautiful view of London.

"I still think my idea is the most effective."

"Al…flying straight into Moscow to do an unplanned mission won't work…I know you think-" Matthew was cut off by Alfred's tortured look that he gave him, his eyes swimming in rage, hurt, and was that…guilt…

Jus as quickly as it came, Alfred turned around and picked up a pen and began filling out the unfinished paperwork hiding every part of Arthur's workspace. Matthew looked over Alfred's shoulder.

"Al…what are you doing?"

Alfred didn't respond right away, but continued to fill out the paper silently.

"…He's not going to want to come back to all this sh*t. I figured…he'd rest easier knowing he didn't have any of it to do."

He sighed, and slowly brought the pen down to rest.

"…We're working as hard as we can, Al…I'm sure he'll be fine." Matthew knew they were empty words, as empty as Alfred's bleak eyes, but he said them anyway. Alfred only stood up and pulled him into a crushing hug.

"God, what is that #!*% doing…Arthur…"

* * *

><p>Seconds ticked by in his mind, matching the dripping pattern of the tiny stream of water in front of him. Darkness was all that encompassed him. His muscles were numb, the room was cold, and he was tired.<p>

It had been too long. He stopped counting days a while ago.

He hadn't eaten in so long…the only thing keeping him alive was catching the water as it fell into his mouth when he could. He felt…so alone.

Russia was never coming back.

He would die here. His head hung in this realization.

A particularly strong breeze fell upon him from the air vent, ruffling his unkempt hair and chilling his numb body. His fuzzy mind awoke a bit from its coma-like survival state at the touch of the wind…

No. No, he couldn't die here. He had lived too long to die here. But what way out was there? The door was off limits for sure…and he would know if there was a light to the outside anywhere…

The air vent.

His eyes snapped open for the first time in days. That was it.

New energy now in place from his worn body, he forced his head up to look at the iron cuffs that had held him for so long. His mind raced. The cuffs were much bigger than his wrists, even when he was at his healthiest. He had lost weight, he told himself ruefully. It could be…

He moved his arms for the first time as best he could with the almost nonexistent blood flow through them. They didn't even feel like a part of his body, and were more like dead weights. Nevertheless, he used as much strength as he could to line up his hand with the opening of the cuff, and dropped control. His bony hands slid through the cuffs and dropped to his side.

He bit his tongue to keep from screaming in pain as his arms came down and his wobbly legs refused to support his weight. He crumpled to the ground hard, striking his shoulder on the rocky ground.

His arms felt destroyed from disuse; the muscles in his body screamed in agony as he gripped himself against the new position his body was in. He gritted his teeth against it all, enduring as much as he could as his body continued to spasm.

Eventually, but very slowly, the shooting pains of unused muscles became nothing but dull continuous aches, and finally he chanced moving for the first time in any sane amount of time. Even now, as he tried to push himself into a standing position, his muscles were contracting from even the tiniest bit of movement. Still, despite all this, he gritted his teeth and pulled his malnutritioned body right under the air vent in the ceiling.

It was big enough for an extremely thin man to squeeze through, and, feeling his bony ribs with his hand, he knew that wouldn't be a problem. The problem was getting to it, and removing the cover from the wall.

He leaned himself on the wall, and pushed himself to that old cot. All that took all his little strength and he fell across the bed, panting, muscles spent. He was forcing himself to stay conscious; now wasn't the time to take a f*cking nap. He couldn't stand the darkness anymore, with nothing but the sound of dripping water and his own breathing to break the deafening silence. He needed out. Out. Out.

He repeated this word in his head, making it a mantra as he, grimacing, pushed himself off the cot and latched onto the wall for support again. TO his small relief, his weak legs held him up, and he took a tentative step towards the edge of the bed frame. He let go of the wall entirely and grabbed hold of one leg of the cot, and stemming himself for the pain in his arms, pulled.

The bed moved forward a few inches, and he grinned through the beginning burn in his arms and shoulders. A few more painful jerks of the bed and the unwelcome sound of the metal frame scraping against the stone floor, and he had moved the bed successfully underneath the large air vent. He fell to the floor, exhausted, but victory in his heart for the first time in a while.

After a few minutes of much needed rest and listening intently for Russia's footsteps, he got up shakily and crawled onto the hard mattress, trusting his legs to stand him up. He reached up and touched the vent cover, noting with much more clarity that he could easily just push up on it to open it. He did so, and was rewarded with a rusted creak as the grate-cover lifted up and shifted to the side. He pushed it completely out of the way, and steeled himself for the task ahead. He didn't know how long his arms would be able to hold out in the state that they were in, but f*ck it if he wasn't going to try.

He jumped as best he could upwards into the hole, and grabbed onto the slippery inside surface of the vent, hands desperately trying to grasp onto something, anything. With a lunge, he pushed himself into the vent and crawled on broken nails into the tube.

Exhausted to the very core of his being, he stopped for breath and to let loose his screaming muscles which had been working nonstop ever since he released them from their tortuous prison. He lay panting in the cramped space, just happy to be out of that damned cell.

He gave up on hope of being rescued. He didn't know how long he had been here, but it was long enough to forget the outside world, to forget many countries, to forget food and light and softness. What was warmth? What was color? What was life?

There was only one thing he had clung to. One thing that kept him from the brink of absolute despair. In his mind he could already see the wide grin, the gloved hand outstretched, the glasses glinting in the sunlight.

But every time he reached out to take it, it disappeared. He would be left cold and alone forever in oblivion once more.

Alfred wasn't coming. If he was, he would already be home, wherever home was. With a new determination filling his leaden bones, he pushed himself into a crawl position again, and agonizing inch by inch, he made his way forward. The only one he could rely on was himself. Just as it had been, and would be now.

It seemed to take ages. At each air vent cover he stopped, peeking through the slits into the room below. Ivan had to have a communications room somewhere in this hellhole. If he could just reach it…

Another air vent. Another failure. With each one, the lower his face and heart fell. His sprained wrist ached abominably, and he was struggling to keep his teeth from chattering.

He didn't know where the end of the vent was, or when it would come. He had to press forward.

A dim light filled the next dotted part of the tunnel, and he hurried toward it no barely stable limbs.

He peeked down, utterly finished, to see his saving grace. A communications board, a computer. He could finally send a message out.

With shaking fingers he pried the grating up and out of the way, the rusted metal cutting into his bloodless palms. It creaked out of place and was set aside in front of him. Bracing himself, he drew his muscle less legs in front of him and slipped them into the room. Though eh tried to support what remained of his body mass, he tumbled through the hold and landed in a twisted pile of limbs and concrete.

He bit his lip, drawing blood, to keep from crying out in pain as he felt his leg twist unnaturally and snap. Agony swam through him like a fall of lava burning him from the inside out. D*amn , his bones really were brittle…

But the computer was right there. Ivan forgot to turn it off. Every file, every program was running. He would make it.

* * *

><p>AUTHOR'S COMMENTS:<p>

Alright! Before I start ranting, reviews:

xXAmericaXTheXHeroXx! I think I fixed the swear words! And I'm sorry it almost made you cry...well, not really, that's what I was going for...but thank you!

Hey, SilverMoonWings! Can't promise that...at all...We have things in store for Iggy yet...CLIFFHANGERS ROCK

What up, iNatix! Yup, I've looked them up...most of them are pretty medieval and really scary. Thanks for your complements to the last chapter! I worked really hard on it and enjoyed writing it (wow...that sounded so sadistic...) but thanks! I think I fixed it...maybe...I'll go check...

Hey, Mothy.D! I sadly do like when Iggy gets tortured...actually, whenever any of my favorite characters get tortured...I'm sorry for not updating sooner, I've been busy and lazy! Thanks!

WriterCat! Hey, if you want me to write a scene like that between Iggy and Ivan for you, I will...I won't publish it, as I want this story to remain T, but I'll send it to you if you want. But thanks! It's my first torture fic, so I was a little nervous in first putting it up here. Ah! I don't want Alfred coming at me! I'll finish it soon! Really!

And cookies111, Russia is a b*stard...I'm glad I'm getting that across! Alfred will go to save Iggy soonish, no worries!

FullMetalFreak19! Never going to Russia? Just because of their torture techniques? Nice. I shall continue to the best of my ability!

What up, Doodle Sketch! Yeah, Ice water doesn't seem too bad, but in actually, it's one of the hardest things to endure. (That's why I picked it ^_^) Poor Arthur gets hurt way too much...I really should start writing some nice, cute fluff for him to make him feel better...

Hey , USUK! Short and sweet. I love it. LET'S ALL GO KILL RUSSIA!

And AMERICA, oooooo yes go get Belarus! Sic the scary little girl on him! That's a great punishment!

Hey, FaithAltoire! *spat out coffee when I read your review* Ha Ha ha! I love the table! Let's all feel sorry for the table! :3 Ooo, Fanart for this story would be really scary but really cool! I love putting in detail, though i feel horrible tor doing this to Artie...

And AuryVF, don't worry, Artie will be home sometime in the near future. It's a strange feeling being happy when a character is tortured...but I love it anyway!

OK NOW ONTO THE RANTINGS

...Arthur has escaped! Well, his cell at least...I can't say the same for the actually building...

The thing I've noticed with a lot of torture fics that I've read is that the captive stays captive until the hero finally rescues him.

Was I going to have that? Oh, H*ll to the no.

Arthur is a strong country. We all know this, and so obviously, he's smart enough to figure a way out of any situation no matter how desperate. He isn't some helpless captive that you just feel sorry for because he can't do anything about it. When push comes to shove, he'll find a way out.

And so he did.

Don't worry, Russia's not out of the picture yet.

Oh, and to anyone who noticed the extensive use of pronouns in the second part, I didn't use Arthur's name for a reason. Maybe you've already figured it out, but if you haven't, I'm not telling you. ^_^

I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and please continue rooting for our favorite Brit! Thank you, and review, please! I love them.

-Fang


	6. Chapter 6

Hey there, Fang here. Wow...It's been more than a month since my last post...well, now that the unofficial hiatus is over and my muse has returned, I shall get right on all those fics I haven't finished, starting with this one. Thank you for continuing to read!

* * *

><p>He quickly began punching in letters and numbers into the keyboard, diving right in. This could be his one and only chance to get a message to the outside world and Alfred. The world…he hadn't thought of that in days.<p>

Had he really forgotten what it was like out there? What colors were besides black and shades of grey? What was life? Would he ever...experience it again? Escape this hellhole of despair that he had grown so accustomed to. It seemed like an impossible dream. But the man couldn't dwell on this now…not when freedom lay so close.

* * *

><p>The blonde shadow of a man was leaned up against the computer working frantically to secure his way out. Anyone could see his mistake, why he left his back to the door. But that didn't help his plight, did it? Still watching his prisoner, the yet unseen man drew his knife from his sleeve, content for now to watch the amusingly useless struggle the panicked man was putting up.<p>

Even if he did end up getting a message through, what would be the use? He would beat his body until it was unrecognizable. Now, wouldn't that just break America's heart. They never learn, he thought. But then, what fun is it to him if they did?

* * *

><p>"Al-"<p>

"No. No more. This is getting us nowhere." Alfred stopped his pacing and wearing a hole in Arthur's carpet. "I'm sick of this! We've done this for a week, you hear me? Maybe even more! I've lost count of these #!*% useless days! And we haven't done a thing. We sit in this house waiting for a message. How. The #!*% . Do you expect that Russia's really going to just tell us where he is? I know him, he's not that #!*% careless!"

Matthew looked helplessly at his raging brother. "Al, I'm sorry….there is just nothing else we can do. We can't just go marching into Russia, you know that would never work…"

Alfred slammed into a chair in exasperation. Matthew inched next to him, trying to offer his twin some comfort and respite.

"Look….Alfred…please, one more time. One more hour of waiting, that's all I ask. After that, the ball is in your court. You can do whatever you want." He rubbed Alfred's shoulder. His twin remained painfully silent, staring at the bowl of wilted flowers on Arthur's table.

Thinking Alfred wanted to be alone again Matthew patted his shoulder and began to quietly creep out the door. Alfred was suffering enough with worry. He didn't need more crap on his plate.

"Fine."

"Matthew stopped and turned around in surprised at his brother's hardened voice.

"Wha-"

"I said fine. One more hour. And then we do things my way." Alfred didn't turn around. He leaned his head onto his arms, indicating that he was through talking. Matthew nodded his head anyway.

"Thank you."

With that, he rushed down the stairs where the others were busily working. One hour, he told himself. One hour before Alfred, the great United States of America, went berserk. No pressure.

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><p>His eyes were glued to the screen, sweat, if he had had enough liquid in his body, would have been pouring from his white forehead. His shaking fingers traversed the keys with urgency as he typed in the coordinates of his location which were found in the computer. God, he was almost free. All he had to do was click the mouse there…and there…<p>

He licked his chapped lips. He hit the green light.

The message was sent. The coordinates were out there. He had done it. His frail body shook with exhaustion and his adrenaline rush ending. He didn't even care that his leg was shooting bolts of pain throughout his entire body, nor did it matter that his body was at the breaking point of simply collapsing right where he was propped up over the desk. As long as they were looking for it, they would find it. He had won. He had won over Russia. That was all that mattered.

He missed the black shadow overcoming his body as his head was smashed against the keyboard.

* * *

><p>Matthew burst through the door of Alfred's room at the same time his twin was going to rush out. Alfred grabbed him by the shoulders.<p>

"Your #!*% hour is up! I'm going out to Russia, and no, you can't #!*% stop me!" He tried to push past Matthew, but the Canadian held him fast.

"No! Alfred, listen!"

Alfred struggled. "Let go of me! I have to do this!" Alfred wanted his brother out of his way in his frenzy, but he wasn't so crazy to hurt him to get what he wanted.

"But Al-"

"No-"

"We found him-"

"I don't care about your stupid failing searches, I need to get Artie back-" he stopped short, no longer struggling with Mattie. "…what?"

Matthew removed Alfred's hands from his shoulders. "I said we found him."

Alfred stared at him, emotions flashing through his face in his shocked states. Without a word, he pushed past Mattie and ran stumbling down to where the others were diligently working. Japan looked up from his swivel chair on wheels and his computer when Alfred burst into the room. The American shoved him out of the way of the machine and almost pressed his nose to the screen which held a single set of numbers and a small line of text.

Germany came up to him. "We don't know if it really is from him…as we have no proof of its validity."

America screwed looking at the numbers and enlarged the text. After a few seconds of staring at the computer, he fell back into the desk chair with a weak laugh. He took off his glasses and rubbed his face in exhaustion.

"It's….It's from him. It's really him...but how…How could he have sent this? Did he escape? Did Russia let him go?"

Germany and Japan took one more look at the message.

~Come on, Git. You don't want me to take out Russia myself and miss all the fun.~

"How do you know that it's a real message…" Germany questioned.

"Heh, Arthur just insulted me. I'm the only one he calls a git. And if Russia were writing this, he wouldn't be able to use sarcasm over a computer."

Italy took that moment to finally come into the room, followed closely by Matthew.

"And those numbers?"

" I think they are coordinates. They are certainly in the correct set up." Japan noted. Alfred shoved his glasses up on his face and went to the other computer. His fingers flew across the keyboard. Maps appeared and vanished on the screen, until the exact coordinates were shown to be close to the Northwestern border of Russia.

"There." breathed Alfred. "Arthur is there."

The others gathered around the screen, looking at their new destination. Alfred was already up and heading for his room in Arthur's house to prepare himself for the 'invasion' to get back his brother. He couldn't imagine what kind of trouble Arthur was in.

But what he did know was that in the end, Arthur would be alright. He had to be.

* * *

><p>AUTHOR'S COMMENTS:<p>

Once again, the unofficial Hiatus is over :3.

Anyway...Reviews that i promised to respond to and never did *sheepish grin*

Hey, Doodle Sketch! Yes, I was very adament on the fact that Iggy would escape, at least for a time. Glad you enjoyed the little twist. The master of prison breaks can never be broken!

iNatix! While I love writing the Iggy-torture parts, I do also quite enjoy the America Canada sections. Just that worry really interests me, and I hope to do more with it later. Arthur...he's such a hero...I love him!

And WriterCat! Haha, good, thank you for not having me go through that type of torture...just thinking about it makes me cringe a little. I love brotherly love in anything and every manga I've ever read *another sheepish grin* so that's pretty much all I write about. Thanks for the nice comment!

Hey, xXAmericaXTheXHeroXx! Well, I can't say I came back soon, like a month, but still. At least I came back!

DragonLinkAwesome, I'm so terribly sorry I made Iggy break his leg...and you know, worse stuff will happen to him...but Alfred willl huggle him better :D

Hey, ChibitaliaxHRE! I bet you could, and I would help you in doing so :3

And Hey! PwnedByPineapple! Hi! Iggy's a very...torturable person (wow, made up a word there, don't mind me :3) and everyone does it, me included. But he's so much to mess with, because you know he'll be alright in the end. Haha, America will so be back to BadAss American, and maybe kick some Russians down. Russia...I really don't like this character...Haha, thanks for the review!

FaithAltoire! SOrry i haven't posted in so long, or written for that matter, but I'm definently sure that I will be writing more! See Ya Later!

And Now...

Iggy, Iggy, Iggy...I'm so horrible to him...And I'm such a sadist...It's quite sad and awesome at the same time, heh.

Eep! It's almost midnight, and I have school tomorrow...

But yes, I will be writing much, much, much more. How else can I stay awake in Economics class?

Please leave reviews, I really do appreciate them, especially when I open my inbox and it's filled with them. I love it so much :D

-Fang


	7. Chapter 7

Hey There, Fang here. Well, here is the next installment of "Icy Darkness". I question my sanity sometimes as I write this :I Eh, saneness is overrated!

Hope you enjoy.

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><p>He was thrown back against the wall and crumbled to the floor. His broken leg was crushed beneath him. The taste of blood filled his mouth from Russia's harsh blow.<p>

"You think you can be so arrogant that you believe you can escape?"

He opened his eyes long enough to see the dull metal of a thick pipe and Russia's feral eyes. The pain hit him in the chest, like a sledgehammer driving a stake in a rock. Through the blood red that covered his vision he thought he could hear a disembodied scream. After he heard his ribs crack and break under the blow, he knew with horror it was his own raw, ragged voice.

Pain rained down on his defenseless body like hail. The pipe came down and down again, each hit permeated by a grunt of anguish. In his blundering thought, he knew Russia was done playing games. This was just for satisfying his rage, his hateful anger.

Russia's breath was on his face.

"You believe in your own strength when you have none." There was a crack against his shoulder and it knocked him to the ground. He clenched his teeth and grabbed at his almost-dislocated bone.

"You are not strong at all. You have to rely on others to get you out of here, da? Your message to them was cowardly. I expected better of you."

His captor jerked him onto his back, jarring his broken ribs. Placing the end of his pipe at the pained man's throat, he dragged it down slowly to rest on his stomach.

"So you are the useless man who expects everyone to take care of you. You choose to run from the danger that I present. Well then, da?"

He laid the pipe across the blonde's legs, one grotesquely bent where he ha broken it falling from the ceiling. Russia's eyes gleamed as he glared at his heavily breathing captive. The man, though he could do nothing through this situation, took all of his strength to scowl through his agony. Russia tsked.

"It's no use to resist."

With that he crushed the pipe onto his legs and the man's bones buckled. A hideous crunch and snap echoed around the stone room as his legs were shattered. The tortured man's gasping screams punctuated every sound of metal meeting flesh, of bone fragments tearing though the muscle and skin.

" #!*% Englishman! You have no escape if you cannot use your legs!" came Russia's hated voice as he aimed one more smash at his prisoner's dismantled limbs. The Briton's nails dug into the stone floor, grating and scratching in a struggle to brace himself against the excruciating pain. His voice was gone; he had nothing left to scream. All he could do was hold himself together to keep himself sane.

* * *

><p>Alfred was on autopilot in his mind, flying into the outside border of Russia's Siberia. No, he wasn't worrying about any border rules or misunderstanding that could erupt between him and the Russian people. Russia wasn't trying to start the war to end all wars here; he wouldn't chance shooting the personification of America just yet.<p>

Flying over the frozen wastelands of Russia's land in his fighter jet way ahead of the others, the America had finally controlled his anger. It was locked deep within him, ready to be pulled out in full force the moment he saw Russia's smug face. Out here in Siberia, Arthur could not have been fool enough to bother escaping from his captor's hideaway. He would stand a better chance of surviving with that #!*% than out in this bitter cold. At least then he could die somewhere somewhat warm.

Alfred tightened his fingers around the controls of his fighter. Could a country really die?

Could Arthur…really die…

Alfred ground his teeth and narrowed his sight on the white expanse below him. Countries couldn't die, he assured himself. But #!*% if he was going to let Arthur be the guinea pig for that. Russia could test that theory once Alfred had his gun to his head.

But Arthur was strong. If Alfred himself could survive from such torture and come out of it sane and alive, so could his older and decidedly more stubborn brother. Arthur was tough, he reassured himself. There was nothing Russia could do to break him, nothing he could say to destroy that Brit.

He flew on mindless of all else, only knowing vaguely that Italy, France, and Canada and the others were behind him in another plane somewhere. He would find Arthur, beat Russia's #!*% #!*% , and then take his brother back. Arthur wasn't leaving his sight for weeks after this.

* * *

><p>"He isn't coming for you, you know." Whispered the silky voice in his ear. "He's left you alone."<p>

The skeleton of a man let out a weak noise of resistance.

"You don't believe me? Then where is he?"

His head fell to his shoulder; his mind struggled against Ivan's soothing tones.

"He's not here, is he? Your precious American hasn't come, has he?" the voice asked. The trembling man made no motion of hearing.

"Answer me. He isn't here, is he?" came the litany. He still didn't move. The iron came hard upon his abdomen. Blood pushed out of his mouth in a horrendous choking cough and he curled up around his vital organs.

"Answer…me. That American #!*% never cared about you, did he? Answer me!" The voice simmered with rage. Fighting a moan, the man choked out a simple no.

"Good…" the silk of the tone had returned, caressing his tormented min with honey-sweet words. "It's time you learned he only thought of you as a burden…He constantly had to take care of you…" Poison dripped like nectar from his tones.

"You thought, you were so arrogant to think that you, such a small country, could help him? You must realize now that you only brought him down. You prevented him from growing into the country he could have been because you were hanging onto his arm like a needy child."

He only stared blankly at nothing, letting the Russian's poison seep into him. He could feel his mind, his heart, all but shutting down. He couldn't listen to this. He wouldn't become part of this monster's plan.

"He may not care…but I do…" the voice was back. Russia's breath glossed over his ear. "I can take you under my wing…I can take care of you, like a little pet…I can make you strong again. America doesn't need you, he has never needed you. I can need you if I wish."

A single drop of salty liquid raveled down his cheek as his mind's walls began crumbling around him as Russia's deadening words penetrated his thoughts. Everything Russia said sounded right…Alfred wasn't gaining anything from him.. he was…weak…who was he to think he could stand up to Russia, to even consider himself strong? He only looked in the past, to his glory days…but in the present…

"I am…nothing…" he murmured.

"That is right. You mean nothing. No one wants you, no one needs you. You could, say…die right now, da? No one would know. No one would bother with you. You understand?"

He did. He really did. The last of his walls cracked down, and his unprotected mind was open to the Russian.

Time, which had not mattered to him once he was taken here, lost any power over him. Ivan was all that was there. His broken body was wrapped in the Russian's arms as he was fed endless hate dripping from that voice.

He was hated. He was unneeded.

He was useless. His mind accepted everything.

_NO…_ whispered a place deep in his head. _No…do not believe…_

But Russia was so logical-

_NO. _it interrupted him.

No? he questioned himself.

_No. Wrong. You will see how wrong you are soon enough, alright?_

For one instant, Russia's truths were lies. One moment of clarity from this cloudy state stood out, and he took it. Everything about himself, every painful moment, every joy, he took and hid inside that little voice of hope. The man inside the country fell into unconsciousness.

* * *

><p>Alfred broke down the door to the bunker and it gave way like melted butter in his fury. Gun in hand, he tore through the security layer by layer. He was mindless, nothing save for the sight of a certain Brit could stop his infernal rampaging of this cold rock.<p>

This bunker went down quite a few levels. Deciding to screw the elevator, Alfred took the stairs down, jumping down flight at a time.

"America!" "Al-" " #!*% , America, get your #!*% back up here and wait for us!" Germany's voice yelled over his headset. Alfred had lost all ability for reason. He tore off that #!*% headset connecting him to the outside world. He wouldn't let anything distract him. Not while he was so close to Arthur, closer than he had been in weeks. They couldn't possibly ask him to wait any longer.

It was growing even colder as he made his way underground, the stone structure leeching every grain of heat from Alfred's body. The image of Arthur living here for the past week or so made him sick.

Alfred was finally on the bottom floor. His boots clacked against the concrete as he ran half-frantically through the rooms, checking each one methodically. Most were empty, dark, and filled with a sense of emptiness and foreboding which he couldn't explain.

The next room was already open, and Alfred's heart shot up into his throat when he was the metal pipes and the dirty table linked with chains decorated around the edges with blood. It had been used within the last week…Alfred slammed the door shut to that room. Arthur. He needed to concentrate on Arthur.

The room after that gave him pause. A voice whispered in Russian very softly behind it.

Russia's voice.

Alfred's rage reached a new high, and he crashed through the door and into the pitch-black room.

Light shone in, showing America the Russian kneeling on the floor. His large arms were wrapped around something pale and thin, hugging him to his chest. Russia turned at the door destruction, leaving Alfred's sight free to feed upon the thing in his arms.

It stared at nothing, its eyes blank. Its cheekbones were too prominent, almost sticking out of its face, as were every other bone in its body. Its skin was mottled with purples and blacks, staining the sickly whiteness.

Alfred barely remembered to breathe.

It was Arthur.

* * *

><p>AUTHOR'S COMMENTS:<p>

I am an evil person and will fully admit it! :D

Well, anyway, reviews!

Hey, Super Sister! Speechless, eh? Why thank you very much, that's such a lovely compliment! I hope this chapter was as good as the last one for you! Thank you for reading!

tynder20, I guess I've just given you more reason to be worried for Iggy...but don't be worried for too long, Alfred is here! It will get better for our poor over-abused Brit, I promise.

Hey, cookies111! I should stop pounding Iggy into the ground and give him a puppy or something, really, the man's been through waaaaayyyyy too much! Doesn't mean I don't like torturing him just a little bit ;) Thank you for your review!

ayanami-verloren, hi! Well, you just have to wait for this upcoming chapter to see Russia in a bloody pulp, dont worry. He's not getting away with hurting Iggy unscathed :D But I wouldn't kill Iggy, noooo never...Thank you for reading!

FAITH ALTOIRE, HII! haha, that would be a good thing to draw, wouldn't it? You do such great artwork , you would pwn at that! And That line was one of my favorites to write, I figure that is what is going through most countries heads when Alfred goes a little nuts. Heh, i'm slowly but surely getting through econ, even though I fall asleep every day...

And PwnedByPineapple, Hi! Alfred's here to save the day, all will be well!

Poor Iggy...well, the battle is up next, and don't worry, It wont be like the usual one. I have it written out...so expect an update soon! Thank you so much for all your kind reviews, I love them!

-Fang


	8. I'm So Sorry

Hey there, Fang here.

Please don't yell at me, because I know that if you are still actually bothering to keep up with this story, you were expecting an update. Well…this really isn't one. Call it one of those horrid Author's Note things.

So, I was going through this story again, because I completely forgot where I was going with this. To put it lightly, the writing style of it to me is absolutely horrific. There are also some very badly explained plot points that make me grimace. Considering I started this more than a year ago, I like to think that I could do better, and so therefore I am rewriting this story. It's painful even for me to read.

I will keep this version of the story up until I have finished rewriting it up to where this one ends, and then I will take it down.

Oh! I'm changing the title, too, because for the life of me, I can't remember why I called this one "Icy Darkness". Hell, it doesn't even have a meaning. If you have a suggestion, send it my way.

If I end up doing this to a lot of my stories, don't be alarmed. I am one who abhors bad writing, and many of my fics that I wrote back in high school, like 10th through senior year, are not very good in my eyes.

Please bear with me, and thank you for your patience.

-Fang


	9. News for the future of Icy Darkness

Hey There, Fang here.

The first chapter of the re-write is up, underneath the title "Bravery Under Adversity"; Here: s/8597103/1/Bravery-Under-Adversity

If you intend to continue with me through this confusing and frustrating journey, please transfer any favorites or followings to that story. I will be taking chapters down from here in a few weeks.

I feel so, so horrid about all of this. I know a few of you are upset at me for not giving you any sort of an update, and your messages to me telling me so are completely justified. I do not intend to work on anything else Fanfiction-wise except for this story until it is completely finished. I'm half-way done with editing Chapter Two, so expect that one up soon within the next two days.

I do have a direction to go as well, dealing with the aftermath of Arthur's torture and how deeply it has affected him.

Again, I am deeply sorry, and I hope that those that have stuck with me will continue to do so. Thank you.

-Fang


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